


Strawberries

by ladyofreylo



Series: Reylogan Stories [4]
Category: Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo - Freeform, Clyde Logan - Freeform, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Happily Ever After, Happy Ending, Kylo Ren - Freeform, Logan Lucky - Freeform, Love Story, Marriage, One Shot, Preacher's Daughter, Rey - Freeform, Reylo - Freeform, Reylogan, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, church
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofreylo/pseuds/ladyofreylo
Summary: Based on a prompt from Twitter:  Reylogan - southern church picnic where she's a religious rebel and doesn't care about the church biddies - just getting Mr. Clyde Logan all hot and botheredRey Kenobi, daughter of The Reverend O Kenobi, has set her sights on Mr. Clyde Logan.  She puts on her best Sunday church barbeque dress and goes husband-hunting.  Just a bit of lovey fluff for you.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Rey (Star Wars), Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Reylogan Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741774
Comments: 26
Kudos: 152





	Strawberries

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the barbeque.

_Damn that man_ , Rey said to herself. _He’s slippery as a frog. Won’t be pinned down_.

She had been eying Mr. Clyde Logan for quite some time, and while he eyed her back—she was sure he was looking—he never once made a move. Probably because of who her daddy was.

Well, Rey was finished with games. Time to get serious. Rey drew her confection of a dress out of her closet, wrapped in Boone’s Laundry Cleaning bags. Two bags wrapped around it, just to make sure it stayed fresh and clean. This was her man-catching dress. One man in particular.

Mr. Clyde Logan had come back from that second tour in the army without giving Rey so much as a how-dee-do, even if he was eye-fucking her from afar. Then he went to work in that damn bar on the outskirts of town. The one her dad railed against—well, not specifically the Duck Tape—but bars in general. Her dad stood in the pulpit with Mr. Clyde Logan in a pew and talked about the evils of liquor. Mr. Logan nodded along with the ladies who were always getting up a head of steam about men drinking. He never seemed to remember that he was a bartender or a bar owner—even though her father preached against both.

Of course, that did not stop Rey’s father from dropping in on Mr. Clyde Logan’s establishment on Saturday nights to check out who needed saving in church on Sunday. The Reverend O. Kenobi was always ready to down a surreptitious libation while nobody was looking. Rey just shook her head and went to track him down.

“Is your sermon done, Daddy?” she would ask, finding him setting with his congregants, shooting the breeze.

“That girl rides you pretty good, Reverend. Got a mouth on her,” commented Joe Bang, who needed saving most of all. He hee-hawed a little, from his vantage point in front of the big polished bar.

“You dragging your lazy ass out of Mellie’s bed of sin for tomorrow’s service, Mr. Bang?” Reverend Kenobi replied.

“Yes, sir, I intend to,” Joe commented. He was lying.

Rey said to her father, “I’m serious, Daddy. You can’t just stand up there and yell at Mr. Logan because you came in here and have nothing else to discuss from the pulpit.”

Rey looked over at Clyde, who heard his name and nodded at her. He took her breath away, such a big hunk of man meat, all standing around, waiting for a wife. She had no idea why he wasn’t up and married, his lack of hand notwithstanding. Seemed like he could do any damn thing he liked with or without a hand.

Unchristian thoughts of fornication drifted into Rey’s head while she ripped the plastic off the dress. Clyde taking the dress off, his hand sliding down between her legs, pulling her close, his big body cradling her, his hard…

Seemed like it was getting too hot up in the house. Rey hadn’t even gotten dressed in her Sunday-go-to-meeting barbeque get-up yet. She fanned herself with a stray Sunday bulletin. 

The dress was so lovely, light pink chiffon, the color of sweet frosting, the skirt full and sleeves soft puffs. It had flirty ruffles all around the hem. But, best of all, the dress boasted a pretty strawberry pattern—strawberries with tiny green stems whirling everywhere. Rey felt like a princess in it. The cute ties that held the bodice together made her breasts look lush and defined. She swirled a time or two and watched the fabric drift around her. Then she slipped on some white sandals, dusted a bit of powder over her shiny freckles, and brushed her hair to a glorious chestnut sheen. A dash of pink gloss later and she was ready.

She was husband hunting. And Mr. Clyde Logan was the prey.

Rey tripped into the kitchen of her father’s house, which she shared with him. She cooked meals, cleaned, and ran the church office for him. He read books, wrote sermons, visited the sick, and paid the bills. It was a situation that suited them well. 

That is, until Mrs. Unkie Plutt decided to win her a husband and set her sights on Reverend Kenobi. He didn’t see Mrs. Plutt (widowed, thank you very much) as a greedy, grabby lady. He simply took all the attention she bestowed upon him and enjoyed himself. She brought over plates of food, describing Rey’s cooking as “well, you tried, sugar, but a man needs a woman’s cooking—not a little girl’s.” Rey was in fact in her late twenties and considered herself grown as anybody. Mrs. Plutt came by many evenings to set a while with the Reverend and brought her homemade tea cookies with her. Rey was not invited. The Reverend was content to rock on the porch and stuff himself.

Rey snorted at the thought of her father with Mrs. Plutt—who had wiggled her way into having the Reverend pick her up for the church barbeque. That left Rey to drive herself and her lemon Bundt to the potluck alone. Well, that was just fine. She would corner Mr. Logan and ask him to help her out with the cake.

Rey pulled up in her Journey and spotted Mr. Logan talking with his family in the parking lot. She didn’t think twice about walking up to say hey to him and the rest of the Logans.

“Miss Rey Kenobi,” Clyde said, nodding at her.

“I do need your help, Mr. Logan. Would you be so kind?” Rey gave him a blinding smile.

“Yes, ma’am?” He detached himself from his family and they began walking to Rey’s vehicle.

Mrs. Plutt began waving and yoo-hooing at Rey from afar. She stomped over with a heavy tread and interrupted Rey and Clyde. “Now, honey, there you are. We needed you and your Bundt about a million years ago. Where have you been and why are you wearing my curtains?”

Rey blushed as red as the strawberries. “I am here. I was just going to ask Mr. Logan to help me…”

“Now, you know he can’t do nothing for you with his arm missing and all. You leave that poor fella alone.” Mrs. Plutt gave a sick smile to Clyde, who gazed back at her.

“Ma’am,” he started to say. “I have an arm…”

“Now, be off with you, young man. The men need help at the barbeque pits. Leave Missy be.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clyde said and dutifully loped off toward the church grounds.

Rey set her teeth and smiled a little gritty smile at the annoying woman in front of her. “The Bundt is in the car.”

“Good. Bring it to the dessert table.” Mrs. Plutt stalked off.

Chairs were set up in rows in a big tent, even though the bugs were a bit ornery that time of year. The men had set up smudge fires around and the sexton mosquito bombed the area. Citronella drifted through the air along with the aroma of cooking meat from pit barbeques and smokers. Some of the men detached themselves from the prayer service to keep the fires going and the barbeque cooking. Technically, Rey thought to herself, those damn pits didn’t need much babysitting. The men just didn’t want to sit and listen to her father preach. She didn’t blame them. When her father got wound up, it might be a minute before they ate.

Clyde Logan was one such man. Someone had put an apron on him that said, “Kiss the Chef”—which Rey would gladly volunteer to do—and he had his baseball hat on with his long hair tucked behind some of the biggest ears in the county. Rey would like to grab those cute ears and pull him down for a kiss. She might even be willing to nibble those beasts if he’d let her.

She shifted around in her seat, thinking about nibbling Clyde Logan everywhere. She sneaked a glance or two at him and saw him looking directly at her. He nodded. She nodded back and gave him a little wave. No use being coy. Coy didn’t bring home the meat, especially when talking about big Clyde.

Rey was younger than he by a few years. She hadn’t gone to school with him and had only vaguely known Mellie, his sister. She knew Clyde had gone to the army and come home badly wounded. Then he’d bought the Duck Tape bar from the Dursley family, who had about run it into the ground. Rey’s father had shaken his head, then had gone to introduce himself, and check it out. He and Clyde had been friendly ever since. They’d apparently made a deal that if Clyde came to church and sat in the pew and nodded about the evils of drink, Reverend Kenobi could have drinks on the house and wouldn’t campaign to close the place down.

A perfect arrangement.

After the service, everyone lined up to get food from the huge tables. The ladies served as people went through the line. The men carved up the ribs, pulled the pork, and sliced thin pieces of brisket. All Rey had to do was get her a plate and fill it up.

However, Rey had a plan. She sidled up to the big beefy man turning ribs on the grill.

“Mr. Logan,” she said.

“Miss Rey,” he countered. “You may want to step back. I am going to baste these here ribs with some of the thin sauce and it splashes. You don’t want to get your pretty dress messed up.”

“No, sir, I don’t,” Rey agreed. “I am glad you like it. Thank you kindly.” She took a step back while Clyde laid the giant fork down and picked up a squirt bottle. He applied vinegar sauce to the ribs. The fire leapt up a bit.

Rey watched.

“May I help you, Miss Rey? Would you like a rib? They are slicing over there at that table,” Clyde said.

“No, sir. Well, yes, but later. I’m here to see if you would like me to make you a plate. I would be glad to so do and bring it to you here. Or if you want to sit somewhere’s else…” She trailed off. “I expect it might be hard for you to juggle a plate and drink and silverware with one hand and that claw of yours. No offense.”

Clyde looked at Rey in surprise. “None taken, miss. I would like that very much. I will eat whatever you care to bring me.”

“Are you partial to ribs or barbeque?”

Rey questioned Clyde on food preferences and danced off to make him a plate. He requested a sit-down at one of the tables, but Rey had trouble finding a spot. She set his plate down for a moment on the edge of the big food table. She located two stray chairs from the tent and two milk crates someone had used to bring in supplies. She set those up a little ways from the pit. Clyde watched with interest.

“We have to eat here. There are no more seats,” Rey said. “I’m getting your plate right now.” She returned to the place where she’d left it, but it was gone. Rey looked around and saw Mrs. Plutt holding Clyde’s plate and heading toward the Reverend as if she’d made it for him. Rey put her hands on her hips.

“Mrs. Plutt,” she called, walking over. “That is Mr. Logan’s plate, not my daddy’s.”

“Well, there it sat, missy, attracting flies. I thought it needed a home. I hadn’t fixed up your daddy’s plate yet. Go make another’un for Clyde. He’s not particular.”

“Well, yes, ma’am, he is. I made that plate to his specifications.”

“Now, look here, I said go and make another one, Rey Kenobi, if that’s what you are calling yourself.” Mrs. Plutt sneered at Rey.

Rey took a step back. It was well-known but rarely discussed that she was a distant relative of the Reverend’s and not his actual daughter. No one said boo about it, though, because folks thought the Reverend was a kind, generous bachelor who gave up his home to help a young girl in need. He’d taken Rey in when her parents had died, even though he didn’t have to. He’d given her his name and raised her as his daughter.

“And maybe you should stay away from our Clyde, too,” Mrs. Plutt continued with an evil gleam in her eye. “He’s a war hero and not interested in the likes of you, dressing like the grabby little slut you are.”

Rey lifted her chin. “No, ma’am,” she said. “I will not leave him alone. Mr. Clyde Logan is mine. He is going to be my husband.”

At that moment, the entire church had been hushed by the Reverend who wanted to say a few words as they ate. Rey’s voice rang out loudly through the crowd.

She took a step back. Clyde had most certainly heard her. She stood in complete indecision. Should she barrel on through and claim it? Should she run away in disgrace? She could hear the titters begin as folks started talking about what she’d just said.

Well, Rey wasn’t much for running away. If Clyde was going to reject her, he may as well do it in front of everyone.

She turned around and looked at him, standing with fork in hand. Their eyes met. Rey stood her ground, arms crossed under her breasts, waiting for Clyde’s reaction. He put down the fork, deliberately, and took off his apron. The hat came off next and he laid it and the apron on the folding chair. He shook out his long hair and raked it with his hand. Then he walked over to Rey, who stood gazing at him as he came toward her.

Clyde Logan put his arm around Rey and pulled her close. “My little strawberry,” he said in his deep baritone. He bent and captured her lips. Rey raised up on tiptoe and wound her arms around his neck. She kissed him back with all the passion in her heart.

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Plutt raged. “She’s a nobody from nowhere. She doesn’t deserve you, Clyde.”

Clyde lifted his head. “I only got one hand. She’s a nobody from nowhere. We fit together perfectly. And you need to leave her and Reverend Kenobi be, ma’am. Just leave them be.”

Meanwhile, the Reverend walked up to Rey and Clyde, stepping right around Mrs. Plutt. He accidently elbowed the plate of food out of her hand and watched it fall down her dress.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, “So sorry, my dear. Didn’t mean to…” He winked at Rey and Clyde.

Mrs. Plutt was outraged. “You stupid man. That’s my best dress. You fool.” One of the ladies came running up with napkins, but Mrs. Plutt shrieked and shooed her away. “It’s all ruined,” she gritted out.

“Yes, I imagine it is,” Reverend Kenobi said. “Now, children, you want to get married?”

Rey looked at Clyde with a big smile. He slowly smiled down at her. “I believe we do, sir. And it looks like my darling is already dressed for the occasion.”

Epilogue

That evening, after the barbeque was finished and cleared, and after the Reverend was tucked in his bed, Clyde took Rey to his home, which would soon be hers. He slowly unzipped Rey’s pretty dress and let it drop to the floor. Then he backed her up to the edge of his king-sized bed. Rey’s gaze never left Clyde’s as she peeled her lacy panties down and kicked them across the room. He rumbled low in his chest and pushed Rey backward with one big hand. He knelt between her legs. 

He bent his head to taste his dessert.

And as he pressed his mouth against her, Clyde murmured, “Strawberries.”


End file.
